by Jackie Dana
Even as he reached out to her, a loud bang outside the tent made them both jump, and with a curse, Rynar stepped outside to investigate.
“A horse knocked over a crate of supplies,” he announced when he returned almost immediately. She was sitting peacefully in the same posture as before, and although her eyes were closed, she wore a easy smile. Kneeling down beside her, he observed, “you are exhausted, my dear girl. Come, you should try to sleep.”
Rynar offered her several cushions for her to lie down upon, but she refused to take them. “I can manage without them.”
“My dear one, you do not need to be so brave. You have endured a great deal. Allow me to spoil you a little.”
“Well,” she considered, as he unfolded a blanket. “At least let me help you.”
She knelt down to straighten one of his blankets and he crouched beside her. “You really do not need to assist me with this,” he began, and then reached out like a kitten, toying at the lacings of the shirt that he had loaned her. “My dear, I think I like this new style for you. It is less formal, of course, but I believe it brings out more of your natural beauty. Looking like this, you remind me of someone else I used to know.” He reached out to her and pulled a lock of her hair forward, but as he did so, his finger grazed the glysar chain around her neck. “What is this, my dear?” he asked. “I don’t recall seeing you wearing it before.” Before she could stop him, he had hooked the chain and pulled out the ring, allowing it to drop against her chest.
Now his eyes were huge as he stared at it. His words were sharp with accusation. “Gods, Kate, why do you have this?”
Her heart might have stopped at that moment. “It’s nothing, really.” Quickly, her hand went to her chest, to the space below her throat, trying to conceal the ring. “It’s just...”
He grabbed it and twisted it hard enough that the abnormally strong chain choked her. “Where did you get this?” he demanded in a snarl.
Given that she had just popped out of nowhere after having spent four days, give or take, with Arric, the intensity of his response made sense. If she could have rationally characterized the moment, however, the ring seemed to frighten him more than anger him. Such rationalizations would come later, though. For now, she could barely breathe. Already he had pulled her up to her knees and was half-hanging her with the chain. If he twisted the chain any harder, he would kill her, right there. With the panic one experiences in the first stages of asphyxiation, she struggled to get her fingers underneath the chain, to force enough slack into his grip that she could breathe. “Please, Rynar,” she croaked, “let go.”
In all one motion he dropped the chain and pushed her away, causing her to fall backwards. “So your lover gave you a token of his affection, then,” he said bitterly. He circled around to get a better look into her eyes, like an animal hunting its prey. Never had he gazed upon her with such keen suspicion, like she was a poisonous viper prepared to strike.
What was it about this damn ring? “No, it’s not like that. He asked me to hold it for him, as a favor. It doesn’t mean anything to me.” It was the truth, pure and simple as it was. She suddenly was grateful she knew nothing more about it. There was something about Rynar at this moment that suggested he’d know if she lied to him about this.
He advanced on her again, and again grabbed it between his long fingers. “This is more than a simple favor. Do you truly not know what it is?”
She was forced to rise up to her knees as he again tugged on the chain. “No. He wouldn’t tell me. Please Rynar, you’re hurting me.”
Rynar yanked the chain once, very hard, causing her torso to collide with his. She flailed her arms on either side, but he would not release the ring. Instead, she was forced to stare into his dark pupils, which were only inches from her own. “You owe that man no favors.” He pulled it again, as if to break the chain, but it did not snap. “Ah, it’s glysar.” He flung her back to the cushions. “Take it off,” he commanded.
Breathing heavily, she looked down at the ring, and then at him. She had never seen him like this, and wasn’t sure what to do.
Noticing she had made no move to comply, he pointed at it. “Well? Come now, you have no business wearing that. Take it off!”
Fearing what he would do if she refused, she unhooked the clasp. As soon as the chain came loose, he snatched the ring from her hands and threw it against the wall of the tent.
His eyes, already dark in color, were absolutely black now. “I never want to see you as much as touch that ring again, do you hear me, Kate? Never!”
The blood was rushing into her ears, filling her head with a roar. She didn’t feel like she could remain upright on her own power, and she collapsed back onto the cushions. “Why are you being like this, Rynar? What is it?”
“It is the ring of a fhaoli. If Vosira Bedoric saw you wearing that, he’d have you executed on the spot.” Then he squared his shoulders, and shook his head slightly, as if already his anger was dissipating. “You need not worry about it now.” His mouth jerked, as if he was about to say something else. Then another loud noise outside brought him back to attention. “Gods,” he snapped. “I will be right back.”
When the tent was empty, she shook her head. Had he really almost choked her with the chain? Rynar? Never had he done anything but look after her, fawn over her. It seemed to confirm her worst suspicions of him, yet it also struck her as wholly uncharacteristic of him to lash out at her in such a manner.
It was the ring. For the same reasons Arric was so insistent that she take it to Altopon, Rynar seemed determined that it never see the light of day. It was just a ring, a simple unadorned band. Why was it so significant? How could anyone care so much about it?
She wanted—needed—a moment to compose herself after what had just happened, but she did not have a chance. She heard him batting at the tent flaps with his hands. “The Dosedra is hollering for more food,” he explained. “I decided that he should be given what he wants, if just to keep the peace for the evening. I do not wish any additional interruptions, at least not from that man.” His lips curved into a smile, but it had no warmth to it. “There are more important things that require my attention.”
Kate was now afraid of him, and didn’t want to stay in the tent. Could he have killed her? Would he have done so, if he had known the truth about what had happened in the cave? She rubbed her hands together. They seemed so cold. It was as if she had been made out of ice. Was it possible to feel colder here, now, than she did in the cave that first night after almost drowning in the river? There was no warmth in this tent, not from the candles, nor from the brazier that burned red hot, nor from her companion. She had planned to be charming, to catch him off-guard, but she was at a loss, unable to do what was needed. With regret, she realized she had lost her nerve. All she wanted now was to find her shoes, which were somewhere by the flap of the tent, and run away. The only thing that kept her in the tent now was knowing she still had to save Arric.
“I frightened you.” He didn’t ask, and it wasn’t a question.
She could do little other than field a blank stare.
“Oh, my dear, that ring. You must understand, I believed it lost, and I expected never to see it again. It is a thing of great evil, Kate. If anyone knew you carried it, it would unravel everything I’ve worked for, and it would put you in grave danger. I wasn’t angry at you, you understand, but the fhaoli who dared make you responsible for it.” As she continued to stare at him, he added, “ah, but it must not have seemed like that, eh?”
Kate wanted to disembowel him right about then, but instead, she did her best to appear contrite, as if she accepted the blame for what had happened. “I’m sorry for angering you. I didn’t know anything about the ring, I swear.”
He gazed down his nose at her. “Truly, my dear?”
She nodded.
“Ah, then, we shall put it behind us, shall we?” He folded his legs underneath him as he sat beside her. “I can see that you’re still
upset. My dear, that is all over with now. You must forgive me for losing my temper.” He placed his index finger and thumb on her neck, just under her jaw.
As he touched her, she felt pinpricks of heat come from his fingertips. For a moment, she allowed his touch, but then she forced a cough, breaking the contact. It was as if there had been an electrical current running through his fingers. What was he doing? Was it a form of healing, or was it something else?
“My dear, are you ill?”
She shook her head, and pretended to cough again. “I think I just need something to drink.” She reached for her goblet and took a sip.
Rynar stared at her, as if finding her sudden movement odd, but said nothing.
She set the goblet down beside her. If she was going to act, it had to be now. As much as she loathed Rynar at this moment, for Arric she would be brave. Taking a breath to steady herself, she reached up and wrapped her finger around a tuft of hair by his ear. Before he could register what was happening, she leaned forward to kiss him.
As she did so, he pulled her close, and kissed her back with passion that had been building all these weeks. Then without warning, he gasped and pushed her away.
“What’s wrong?” His reaction shocked her. “Haven’t you wanted to do that since you met me?” She knew how he looked at her, and had seen him watching her when he thought she was asleep. Surely she had read his desires correctly after all this time.
He blinked as he looked at her, and then stood up. If she had simply intended to make him lose his composure, she could have counted this as a win. He had paled considerably and looked very nervous. “That is not a good idea.” Drumming his fingers against his thighs, he looked around the tent, and his eyes alighted on the wine. “Perhaps more wine? The last few days really took a lot out of you, and I think you should regain your strength.”
She took a step forward, and reached for his hands. This was too important, and she needed to win him over. She ran the tip of one finger down his nose. “Rynar, can you honestly tell me you aren’t interested in me?” She reached for his hands.
He shook his arms to prevent her from touching him. “Let me find your goblet.” Retrieving it, he dashed wine into the bowl of the goblet as quickly as he could, and handed it to her.
“Why are you acting like this?” He had to break eventually. Rather than take the goblet, she ran her fingers down his arm. “You have no reason to feel guilty about this.”
“Nay, my dear.” He held out the wine. “Please, take it.”
She smiled sweetly, and blinked her eyes. Could she make it look like she was just a bit tipsy, a tiny bit reckless? “Come on, we must celebrate the fact that we’re finally together.” She took the wine, and tipping her head back, drank deeply.
He now was refilling his own goblet, seemingly as much to occupy himself as out of any desire to drink more, though he did not set it down as he usually would. “My dear, what has come over you this evening?” He nervously took a sip. “This doesn’t seem like you at all.”
She let her head fall back, and she shook it lightly, laughing. “Oh Rynar, don’t you see? The whole time I was gone, all I could think about was you...” With that, she closed her eyes, as if imagining a night of passion, and making sure there was a smile on her face. Little did he know she was actually imagining her time with Arric, trying to draw strength from the memory.
“Ah, indeed?” He continued to stand a few feet away.
She opened her eyes and sipped again from her goblet, and set it aside. Then she knelt down and patted the pillows. “Come over here.”
“Nay, I—”
She sat, crossing her legs in front of her. “Fine, if you can honestly say you’re not interested….” She could not figure out why she was failing so badly. He seemed so afraid of her, as if now that he had her, he didn’t know what to do with her. “Why don’t you just come sit with me, we’ll drink more wine, and I’ll tell you about my journey.”
That made him sigh in relief. “Aye, that is a good idea.” He took a seat where he stood, two arm spans away from her. Shaking her head, she shuffled on her knees to reach his goblet and then handed it to him
“I do not need any more wine,” he protested.
She thought fast. Unlike everyone else she had met in Sarducia, the Aldrish did not consume much alcohol. He had told her once that remaining sober gave him an edge over others; what he didn’t say was that he hated to feel out of control. If her plan were to have any chance of succeeding, however, he had to drink tonight. Holding the goblet in one hand, she reached out to him with the other hand. “Come on, now, Rynar, sit with me.”
He shrugged and agreed, “just this one goblet.” Then he crawled over to where the pillows were piled and accepted the wine from her.
In return, she began recounting her tale, focusing solely on the race through the forest but stretching it out to sound as though that was all they did all night. After perhaps twenty minutes, she faked a yawn.
“My dear, you must be exhausted.”
She nodded, and reclined on the pillows, tugging at his sleeve.
Rather than resist, he curled up beside her. “I should be careful. I might fall asleep myself. It has been a very trying few days.”
Chapter 54
It seemed to take forever, but finally she heard a half snore coming from his lips. She had not fueled passion with him, but she had sensed something else—exhaustion. He probably had slept as poorly these past few days as she had. And probably for the better, as any glimmer of hope he had for a relationship with her had vanished, as if it had been sunlight within the cave.
Before anything else could happen, she slipped from under his arm and stepped over to the stool by the tent entrance, where he had placed his sword and dagger. Without taking a second to admire the sleek scabbard or the jewels set into the pommel, she unsheathed the dagger. Standing behind the tent flaps, she listened for the footsteps of the guards on duty. One paced close to the tent, but apparently in one of his forays outside, Rynar had given the soldiers orders not to intrude, so this guard kept a respectable distance. As he turned away, she snuck outside and around to the rear of Rynar’s tent unseen. Barefoot on the cold ground, she moved as quickly as she could, knowing she had not a second to spare. If Rynar were to awaken, he and the Senvosra would descend upon her like the hounds of hell.
Fortunately the sun had set in the time she had spent with Rynar, and clouds poured in from the west, leaving no stars and only a pale wash from the moon to illuminate the sky. The light of a few anemic torches left wide swaths of shadow for her to cross the small encampment without being seen.
Most of the dozen or so soldiers must have gone inside their own tent, for she could hear their voices clustered together. Drinking, perhaps? Or gaming? It mattered little to her if it kept them occupied. Of the three soldiers that patrolled the camp, they appeared to be concerned more for the activities inside Altopon’s giant torrapon ring rather than beyond it. With the Dosedra now in their custody, it seemed Rynar had expected no threat to come from beyond the camp, and the guard on duty was kept to a minimum. They were not traveling merchants or Bhagali, after all, and the ratio of items worth stealing versus the armaments carried by the soldiers made this an unattractive target for bandits.
As for their prisoner, the soldiers had pushed Arric into the supply tent, which had been placed perhaps a dozen yards away from the others. As she approached it from the side, she noted with relief that Rynar had stationed only a single soldier to guard Arric. Since the Dosedra was weak from his journey, and now firmly tied with ropes, perhaps no one considered him an escape risk.
She hung back, watching Arric’s guard carefully. He should have been standing alertly, but instead he was seated on a stool and appeared to be dozing. She noticed that the tent flaps had been tied shut. She felt the walls of the tent, only to discover that crates lined the sides. To reach Arric, she would need to confront the guard, but as soon as he saw her, his cry would alert t
he entire camp.
Time was now her enemy. The longer she delayed, the better the chance that Rynar would awaken, or the guard would hear her. As she was about to advance, she heard a rustling within the tent. Was that Arric? She longed to call to him, to solicit his assistance, but again, she feared discovery. The noise, however, disturbed the soldier, and as she peered around the side of the tent to watch, he untied the flaps and stuck his head inside to check on the Dosedra.
It was now or never, she told herself. She had no chance to give her plan any rational thought, and if she had, she certainly would have abandoned it. The dagger was heavy in her hand, and awkward. There was a chance she wouldn’t even be able to effectively wield the blade, but she had to make the best of the opportunity. She had seen this in the movies so many times. All she had to do was approach from behind, hold the sharp blade at the guard’s throat, and he would do her bidding.
With a deep breath, she took two silent steps forward. Even with the care she had taken, the soldier, still leaning into the tent, heard her, and turned. As he reached for his own weapon, she knew she had to do something, and without a second’s hesitation she lunged towards him, aiming for his abdomen.
He was surprised by the source of the attack. “Girl, what are you doing?” he asked, and raised his arm, causing her only to nick his hand with the knife. He reached for his sword, and opened his mouth to call out to the others, and in that split second she attacked a second time, this time sending the dagger into his throat.
It all happened in an instant. She had never used a weapon against someone before, but she had not hesitated, and instinct had guided her hand true. The blow was quickly fatal, and blood poured from the wound, and his legs collapsed under his weight.
She could not take the time to process what had happened, to consider that she had just killed a man. Instead, she took another deep breath and pushed into the tent, her arms and legs shaking from the adrenaline.